The yeti and the Elf
by ThatCreepyBastard
Summary: A look into Vasquez and Drake's past and their future. Rated M for bad language, sexual themes and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own these characters or, in any way the Aliens universe, and I certainly don't win anything from this. **

Mark Drake wondered around the juvenile prison's corridors, cursing and kicking at the walls before giving up on his failed attempt to find something fairly interesting to do..

"Fuck you!" He shouted as he showed his middle finger to a near camera and searched is pockets for a lighter. The thing he pulled out was a sad excuse for a cigarette lighter.

Not that bad, having in count he'd find it on the detention center courtyard.

He researched his pockets and pulled out a ball of paper. A letter from his brother, an attempt for him to excuse to his younger brother for not helping him out in the trial that had happen three days before.

"Damn son of a bitch." Drake burst out, while trying to set the paper on fire. He finally managed a small blaze on an irregular side of the ball.

Drake threw it in a close can, as well as the lighter.

With his hands deep in his pant pockets and a murderous look in his pale face, he made his way back to his cell. Stopping when he heard laughter and loud shouts in Spanish, which, by the way they were being yelled could only be insults.

He took a look inside the cell the noises were coming from, finding three boys. No, two boys that he recognized as being Timmy and Bob, the other person being a girl with short hair.

He thought she was a girl, after all, if she was any other thing than a girl Timmy wouldn't be seizing her breast, nor would be Bob trying to undo the button of her uniform trousers.

"Not so bad now, are you?" Timmy asked amused as he bent down to look directly into her dark eyes.

_Bad choice, _Drake thought as the girl spat on Timmy's face, her swearing and complains in a fluid Spanish growing louder.

"Suéltame! Hijo de puta!Cabrón!..." her protests ceased for a couple of seconds as Bob found out how to open the button fly from the angle the girl was being forced, then her face turned red in anger and her protests were renewed.

In an act of both stupid courage and heroism, Drake kicked the door fully open and stepped in.

"Timmy! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" The two boys jumped back dragging the girl with them and she almost fell to the ground, her loose trousers starting to slip down by the sudden movement.

Tim grinned as he recognized the younger boy on their front "Hey, man! How yah doing?" Drake swallowed hard as the squirming girl turned her hatred-full gaze at him.

"You didn't answer my damn question." He stood firm as he spoke. "Let her go man, she did nothing to you."

"There's your fucking mistake!" He wailed, shacking the tiny figure by her arms he was violently grasping. "This bitch punched me. It's going to leave a black eye." He bent down again so he could show Drake the purple skin around his brown eye.

"I'll do the same with the other if you come closer, cabrón!" the girl hissed and tried to bite Timmy's throat, nearly reaching it if Bob hadn't pulled her back, making her land on her butt.

Drake took the brief moment of distraction of the two boys, to punch Timmy on his bruised face.

He cried and fell on his knees, dropping the girl's arms. She didn't hesitate in kicking his throat.

Bob stood still, grabbing the girl's short hair, until she elbowed his knee-cap, and he made the mistake of giving her the opportunity to grab his neck, forcing him into performing a summersault that made him land on his back heavily.

Only then did the girl seemed to remember Drake, jumping to her feet and adopting a fighting position. He was just about to tell her to calm down, before she tried to punch him, instead falling to the ground with a groan, her trousers a curled mess around her ankles.

"You okay?" he asked coming closer to her, still keeping a safe distance. His interest in her well being seemed to intrigue her.

"Why do you fucking care?" she growled.

"I'd care about anyone who could kick those square beast's asses." He shrugged, holding his hand to her. She refused it and pulled her trousers up as she got up by herself. She started making her way out the cell, kicking Bob's face in her way out.

"Hey! Aren't you going to thank me?! "He protested as he hurried after her.

"For what?" She didn't even care to turn and face him.

"How bout for saving your ass?" she gave a small laugh.

"_You _saved my ass? If someone should be thanking anyone it should be you, Bob's an asshole but he can put up a hell of a fight." He grinned.

"If that's your way of thanking me, you're welcome. Nice boxers by the way." As he added the last part, he ran down the hallway while she shouted something in the incomprehensible language and ran on his heels.

**So, yeah this is my attempt to start this story. Not sure if it turned out good, a reasonable piece of shit or a complete piece of shit. Either way, I'll try to make better (and longer) chapters. Sorry if there's any grammar mistakes, but i don't speak english as mother language.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Different from the simulator, isn't it Vasquez?" Apone smirked, tucking an unlit cigar on his mouth.

Vasquez groaned and pulled herself into a sitting position in the small hypersleep chamber.

"Your friend doesn't seem to have the same kind of problem." Spunkmeyer chuckled.

She turned her head carefully to the chamber by her side.

Drake had fallen asleep and was now snoring, with a thin line of drool starting to make its way from a corner of his parted lips.

"Is it always this bad?" She grumbled, to no one in particular.

"Well babe, yah see, it's a total pain in the ass when we wake up from long trips, but this? We call this a fucking nap." Hudson grinned, coming a little too close for her liking.

"Careful Hudson. I'm not going to help you looking for your teeth again." Hicks warned as he walked by the two marines.

"Okay ladies, ten minutes in the playground then I want to see everyone's ass in the mess hall! No exception!" Apone yelled to the awaking marines. "Vasquez, wake up sleeping beauty, would you?"

She growled, but got up.

Her muscles felt like jelly, her vision was blurred; her mouth was filled with a raw taste and each sound seemed to leave a ringing echo on her ears. She also felt a lot like she would puke at any moment, but ignoring that, she forced her fist against the thick wall of muscles that composed Drake's abdomen.

He gave a deep pant and a groan, his face contorted in a grimace of annoyance, which at least contributed to raise her mood a little bit.

"Couldn't you have just shaken my arm a bit?" he hissed.

"Of course I could, but you see, I'm not a flight attendant." She joked, before heading to the lockers room.

She soon understood what Apone meant with 'playground'.

Spunkmeyer had just slapped Ferro's ass with a rolled shirt and she was now threatening to stick a hanger up his ass while Wierzbowski and Frost cheered, the rest of the team discussing who could kick the other's ass if a fight cracked.

Ten minutes in Gateway Station and Vasquez knew that most of the team were a bunch of clowns.

Apone, Hicks and Ferro weren't that bad, Wierzbowski, Crowe, Spunkmeyer, Frost and Dietrich were just a bit childish and then there were two very special cases.

Hudson could be called a player, although Vasquez doubted he could ever get laid. But he certainly tried, had even dared to slip an arm around her shoulders and thrown a really bad pickup line at her, while his hand started to slide down her back. Had to spend the next five minutes searching for his teeth with Hick's help.

Then there was the lieutenant. Apone didn't even had to tell her he was a synthetic, it was rather obvious. Also a bit strange, Weyland Yutani usually cared about making their synthetics as human as possible, but Flynn seemed to lack on that ability a lot. Both his speaking and movements were obviously robotics, plus his eyes were always gazing at anything, except the person he was talking to. It was like his programming prevented him from establishing eye contact.

Vasquez shocked her head and mobilized her shoulders, trying to get over the numbness that reigned over her body, before she noticed the not too high metal bar.

She had to tiptoe to grab it, but at least she reached it by herself.

She heard a few amused comments and another poll started, this one being about the number of pull-ups she could manage.

She turned around with a challenging look as she heard Frost commenting that she couldn't even reach ten.

"How much you wanna bet?" she defied. The other marines cheered again, placing bills on a metallic bench and throwing her a bunch of numbers.

Vasquez clapped her hands loudly to put a stop on the noise. "Sixty. No less. Fifty bucks from each one of you if I can do it. Agreed?" The marines shouted a loud 'yes', almost as in a chorus.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the bar, this time pulling herself up.

Her teammates whistled and kept daring her, most were pretty amazed with how easily she pulled herself up and down, how her breathing was deep, but controlled.

Around the twentieth pull-up, Drake showed up and immediately laughed as Crowe told him about the poll.

"What a waste of money." He commented, shaking his head and sitting alongside with Hudson and Hicks, on the front line.

Vasquez tank top was sticking to her skin from the sweat that ran down her neck and back, but she did not care about that.

Even though her muscles were aching and it felt like her tendons could break at any moment, she did more five pull-ups after she finished the sixty she'd set up. She dropped herself to the floor and turned around victoriously, grabbing the pile of bills and placing it on the bottom of her locket.

"Jeez Vas, couldn't you have called me earlier? I could have won some bucks too." Drake whispered as he ran his finger over her tensed biceps.

"Have you turned in a _furcia_ without me knowing?" she inquired. Drake tilted his head as he tried to find a meaning to whatever she'd called him.

"Whatever you say. You wanna take a swim at the pool?" he asked, already turning to the changing rooms.

"Ni siquiera muerta me encontrarías en una maldita piscina!" she suddenly snapped.

"What? The hell you mean?" he stammered a bit from her sudden burst of Spanish.

"I'm not going into that damn pool." Her head was hanging lower than it usually did.

"Oh, so you don't know how to swim." Drake smirked. "Well Vas, you came to the right person. I´ll teach you…"

"I know how to swim _idiota_! I just don't like doing it." She threw a clean top over her shoulder and hurried out of the lockers room.

"Wait! Why do you say that? You look like a damn good swimmer." He stated as he ran after her.

"You can't possibly say a person is good swimmer just because…"

"Hey! I said that I wanted to see _everyone _in the mess hall, you two included!" Apone rebuked loudly.

"No, you said you wanted to see our asses in ten minutes." Drake dared to say.

"And we don't have any watches to know when those ten minutes would be." Vasquez stepped ahead, which made Apone take a step back and wave his hand on front of his nose.

"I'll give you five minutes to get a fucking shower. God, Vasquez you smell like a rugby team."

"That's what usually happens after you exercise." She replied with a shrug.

"Your five minutes just went to three." The sergeant smirked as he started trying to drag Drake to the mess hall.

"Damn it, I can walk by my fucking self!" Drake mumbled as he pulled his arm free. "We will still have to talk about those swimming classes Vas!"

"Leave your sister alone, Drake." Apone growled. Vasquez laughed, but hurried her pace as Apone raised two fingers.

_**Furcia-**_** whore**

_**Ni siquiera muerta me encontrarías en una maldita piscina-**_** Not even dead would you find me in a damn pool**

**The Sulaco was made by Weyland Yutani and so I though that they would have built a pool for the marines to exercise, after all, swiming is a great way to keep in shape and having in count that the marines are risking their lives to protect the colonies so they obviously deserve one.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Vasquez, you go with Hudson." Apone ordered.

"Great." She growled.

"Well, well. Guess we'll be partners." Hudson smirked as he got closer to the petite latina, sliding his arms around her shoulders again.

Fell back with a long jump as she turned her Smartgun's muzzle at him.

"Touch me again and I'll blow your jewels off." She threatened.

"Jeez, chill out Vaz." He sighed, throwing a nervous look at the large gun, now aiming to his groin.

She snorted, went past him and penetrated into the dense forest.

The dark turquoise trees formed strange shadows that got on her nerves every time a breeze tossed its ovoid leafs from side to side.

"Anything so far?" She asked, tilting her head back to look at Hudson, now staring at his silent motion tracker.

"Nothing yet." He answered, in a confident tone.

Vasquez nodded, blinking a bit as a larger number of light sienna rays penetrate the tall crown. She jumped as the deep silence was broke by the sudden revival of the motion tracker.

"Shit. Forty meters ahead." Hudson reported, nervously. She leveled her gun, ready to shoot at anything that moved.

"Thirty meters. Twenty."

"How many?" Vasquez asked, swinging her weapon from left to right.

"Hum… one I think."

"You think?" She barked, jumping back and looking to the glistening screen.

"T-Ten meters." Hudson looked up. His face ran pale and he elbowed her arm, indicating a pair of green eyes, glaring at them intensely from a shadow.

Vasquez aimed at the space between the lime orbs, squeezing the trigger and holding the gun with more strength, preventing any sudden movements the strong recoil could make.

The alien jumped forward, emitting a bunch of sounds that resembled an equine, before falling to the ground, black blood dripping out of the bullet wounds on its head and shoulders.

"That's a damn ugly bastard." Hudson commented.

She nodded, walking past the quadruped animal laying dead. Immediately, the motion tracker emitted the same alarming sound.

"Forty meters, at least fifty of these bastards!" Hudson called Apone from his radio, tripping at his own words as he reported their current situation. "Their coming." He said tensely.

"Who? Ours or the fuckers?" Vasquez inquired in an annoyingly calm tone.

"Both! Thirty meters! We're fucked!" he bellowed.

"_Cállate_! Apone and the others are coming and you bet I'll hold these _hijos de puta _till they get here." She growled.

"Twenty meters. Damn it Vasquez, you better be right when you say you can hold them back." His body tensed further as he grabbed his pulse rifle "Ten meters."

As the first alien jumped out from the shadows, its jaws hanging open and its eyes glistening with hunger, Vasquez and Hudson opened fire against it and were forced to take a few steps back as an increasing number of similar creatures bolted at them, before other bursts of guns begun on their right.

"Mind if I crash in the show?" Drake grinned.

"Not at all, have fun." Vasquez smirked.

"Talk to me Hudson!" Apone commanded.

"If this crap's right, we have around thirty left, other twenty coming closer from the west." He answered over the gun's and neighing noise, seeming a little more confident with the arrival of his teammates.

Didn't take long before their path was blocked with a pile of the alien's corpses.

"Nice job, now. Hudson, Frost you guys have anything?" Apone cheered.

"No, sir. The place's dead now." Frost answered, lowering his incinerator unit.

"Same here, sir." Hudson replied.

"Good. Let's move on people! Drake, Vasquez take the front. Hudson, Frost warn me for any movement." The sergeant shouted, before reporting the events to Flynn.

The marines walked no longer than ten minutes before Apone stopped them with a whistle.

"Okay people, it's almost night time so let's set the tents and we'll chase down the rest of the pack tomorrow."

"Finally! Feels like my feet are covered in blisters." Hudson complained.

"Hope it hurts." Vasquez told him as she took off her battle harness and placed it near the place the other marines had chosen to settle their own gear.

"Hey Vasquez, wanna share a tent with me?" Hudson asked from his sitting position.

"She's with me." Drake growled, before Vasquez had time to answer. "That guys annoying as fuck."

"Tell something new, I've noticed that a while ago." She said as she stretched her arms arching an eyebrow and Frost gave the two of them a pair of rectangular containers.

"The fuck's this?" Vasquez asked, turning it around to find '_MRE_' written on it.

"Your dinner." Drake replied, tearing open his own. He pulled out a baggie, filled with what looked like smoked salmon. Vasquez teared her own bag and arched an eyebrow as she found a baggie containing shrimp fried rice. Or so she believed that was its content.

"And I thought juvie's food as bad." Drake grumbled, as he nibbled on the fish he'd pulled out of the baggie with a plastic fork.

"Eat your fuck own." Vasquez growled, pulling her dinner away as he tried to stick his fork on it.

"Mine's crappy." He complained.

"So is mine." She punched him in the stomach and he imitated a regurgitating sound. "Puke to the other side, _pendejo_"

"You're getting yourself a bad habit, Vas." He coughed, and was able to steal a forkful of her rice as she straightened herself up.

The only part of the MRE that Vasquez considered be decent was the dessert, hers being banana pudding and Drake's cinnamon apples.

"Don't wait up for me, sweetie." He grinned, licking off a bit of cinnamon from a corner of his lips as he watched her getting up and unzipping the entrance of the closest tent, chuckling as she flipped the bird at him.

Vasquez took off her heavy boots and putted them down in a corner, pulling off her vest and trousers.

The tent wasn't much spacious, but was large enough to accommodate two grown men.

The dark green sleeping bags were cold and felt weird against her skin. She sighed and laid her head on the soft pillow, almost falling asleep after a while, when a cold blast of wind prickled her arms and neck.

Drake was standing near her, removing his wet clothes.

"This is a bad time to go outside." He commented, tousling his dripping hair. "Lucky Spunkmeyer and Ferro, if they're not in the Sulaco, they're in the colony, dry and warm."

"Jealousy is a sin." Vasquez teased, yawning.

"I woke you up?" He asked.

"Would have preferred if you had, it would at least mean I had some fucking sleep."

"You're having insomnias?" He asked as he lay under his mat, shirtless.

"Nah, I think my brain is still under the effect of the hypersleep." She feel back down and turned around, jumping up as a freezing cold arm wrapped itself around her shoulders. "Get off me, muñeco de nieve."

"I'm cold." He groaned, coming closer and pressing his slightly warmer chest to her back.

"Yeah, I've noticed that."

"I hate camping so fucking much." He growled, pulling her closer.

"If I agree would you loose it up a little?" She tried to wriggle free from his bear hug, relaxing as he ease his grip on her torso, resting his chin on her shoulder, his breath tickling her short hair.

"Can I ask you something?" He whispered, sending a tingling sensation down her spine.

"Depends on your question." She whispered back.

"Who's the kid on the picture on your locker?" Vasquez shifted a bit; the theme he picked left her a little uncomfortable.

"My half-sister." She answered after a while.

"You have a sister?" he asked, his eyelashes scrapping her cheek.

"Half-sister. And why the fuck are you that surprised? I didn't bother much when you told me about your brother." She shrugged, pulling the edge of the sleeping mate further up.

"I just never really thought about you as a role model to anyone." She felt the corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk. "Big sister Vasquez. Not really that big." He chuckled. She elbowed him in his ribs, but her own mouth curled in a smile.

"I'm no role model; I have more entertaining things to do." She yawned, shifting again to a more comfortable position. Drake resettled his chin on her shoulder and curled his legs against hers.

"You two are pretty alike." He breathed out before falling in a deep sleep, leaving Vasquez pondering on his words.


	4. Chapter 4

_The little girl pulled up her bruised legs to her chest as she sat on her dirty bed, making an extreme effort to hold back her burning tears._

_Her knuckles pulsed painfully; her stomach growled and her busted lower lip bleed, painting her shirt and sheets in a dark tone of red._

_She curled herself tightly in a ball as she heard violent punches against her locked door, threats and insults echoed on her ears._

_Holding back a sob, and walking as silently as her skeletal figure allowed, she approached her stained window, and thanking the fact she lived in the ground floor, jumped out to the heavy rain, the cold water relieved the pain on her bruises and washed her blood away._

* * *

"Vas, Vasquez!" she was pulled out of her sleep as Drake shacked her shoulders and called her in low, but worried voice.

Vasquez jumped up, kneeling by his side, running a shacking hand through her short hair that sticked to her sweaty forehead.

"You're okay?" he asked, rubbing her arm in a comfort attempt.

"I'm fine. Just a damn nightmare." She replied, letting herself collapse on top of his broad chest. Drake ran his fingertips through her crew cut hair, ignoring the damp feeling that formed on them.

"You sure?" he questioned, snuggling the warm sleeping bag around her sweaty body.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure." She replied, curling her fingers against his strong shoulder, berating herself for letting such an old memory still affect her.

After all, she was a marine, and past would always be just past for her. She had much more important things to worry about, couldn't lose time with memories and nightmares, she reminded herself, nuzzling her head against Drake's chest, his steady heartbeat causing her own breathing to stabilize as well, before he fell asleep again and she was left to think about her life choices.

She felt a bit prideful as she found nothing to complain. She had her sister, her father, a rather decent team and to top that, the best bud she could have asked for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the late (and short) updates, I've been full of exams this two months, but I expect that from now on I'll be able to update regularly, maybe weekly.**

Drake and Hicks advanced slowly through the deserted hallways of Hera City's complex, Drake in the lead, drawing imaginary lines through the air with his Smartgun's nuzzle.

The silence was worst than any possible noise, set his nerves on fire and made his stomach leap.

The duo didn't had to advance much longer for that silence to be broken.

"Drop your guns or I'll blow her fuckin' head off!" a demanding voice echoed as they reached a dark trifurcation.

The voice belonged to a bulky man, restraining a little girl by her shoulder, using her thin body as a shield, pushing a revolver against her blonde temple.

Hicks was the first to react, his voice calm as he began an attempt to convince the man to drop his pistol and the girl, who was crying and cringing silently.

Drake was silent, trying to find the best place to shoot him. Torso and head were out of question as they were totally shielded by the youngster; his hands were well placed, in such an angle he could barely make out a millimeter of them. This left only his legs, but Drake feared he'd reflectively fire the semi-automatic gun if he tried to shoot him.

"Put your guns down! Now!" His voice was tense, his eyes wide open, never looking away from the two marines.

Grumbling, Drake slipped out of his harness, dropping it on the dirty floor. Hick's rifle and shotgun followed, the sound of metal against metal echoed through the silent corridors.

"On my front, hands where I can see them." He sounded calmer, now that the two marines were disarmed, although, he still didn't let go of the colonist.

The two stepped forward, their hands felt stupid as they pulled them to the level of their heads.

The man's orders were firm and almost calm, broken only by a thin line of tenseness, as he directed the two of them through the dimly illuminated corridors.

They stopped only after what felt like a mile, when they reached a large, ample room, which Drake presumed to have been a mess hall.

Now, it was just a really messy room, with tables turned upside down and broken chairs, hosting a large number of colonists, all cuffed by their wrists and ankles, their expressions blank as they rested against the metallic walls with several bullet holes and some blood stains.

Two men were watching over the crowd of men and women, children and teens, each holding a pulse rifle as they lazily patrolled the large room.

The taller of the two approached the arriving group, examining the two soldiers before grinning and pulling out a couple of old-styled handcuffs, swiftly restraining Hicks's hands and feet, pushing the older marine down, before he turned to face Drake's larger frame.

The cuff's clicking sound as they closed around his wrists made his throat run dry. His ankles were restrained right after, and he was pushed down to the floor, where he landed helplessly on his butt.

He hoped Vasquez was in a better situation than he was, sighing has he reminded himself she was paired with Hudson.

She was pretty good at a fight, either armed or disarmed, good at hiding and could walk as silently as a shadow. But Hudson… well, he kinda lowered her odds, even though he had more experience than she did.

He raised his eyes as the same man that had ambushed both him and Hicks reentered the room, grasping the same girl's shoulder, Frost and Dietrich paced slowly on his front.

A few moments later another man arrived with Crowe and Wierzbowski, then Apone, later, Hudson.

Alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Drake's muscles tensed up, aching into his wrists and ankles as the cuffs dug their way into them, while he was forced to walk away from the silent mess hall with tiny paces in a quick motion, finally stopping as he and the man who was dragging him by the arm reached the colony's dorms.

Even before the automatic door had time close, Drake as already been shoved into a sitting position on a dusty bed, the white sheets turning into a dark shade of red as his wrists make just the slightest contact with them.

A pair of light brown eyes blocked his view, and he can distinguish the wildness, the madness behind them.

"Hello Drake. Haven't seen you in quite a long time." His voice sounded like a bark, his wide grin completing the picture of an angry dog perfectly.

"Hello Timmy." He made his voice sound as challenging as he could manage, even though that, inside, he was fearful.

Not for himself. For Vasquez. He can still remember how the two's last meeting went.

He prays she'll get out of the complex and convince Flynn to call on a rescue team.

But he knows her. She's not a person that runs away from trouble. She's the kind of person that goes straight into that trouble and kicks it till it's nothing.

A sickly chuckle fills his ears. Looking up, he sees Timmy biting his lips as he eyed him up and down with a mocking expression.

"Can't believe you turned to that side Drake. The hell happened to you man?" for a fraction of a second, Drake can see his expression softening, before going back to the same hateful appearance as before.

_He's no longer a man_. He realizes. _Not a sane one, at least._He swallowed hard as he stared at what used to be his best pal.

"I grew a brain. You should try to do the same while you still have a chance." He putted all his firmness and conviction on his words. A shiver ran down his spine as Timmy laughed again.

"You grew a brain? Is that really what you think it happened? Oh Drake, I really thought you were smarter than that. Not much, but... a little smarter." he mocked.

He growled and looked up with a blood-thirsty grimace. "What do you fuckin mean by _that_?"

"There's my point! But, let's keep that argument for later, shall we? I was actually referring to that little bitch. Yes, don't try to fool me with insults and angry faces. We both know this is all because of her. You used to have everything you wanted: money, cars, a bunch of chicks fighting just to lick your boots. And yet, you threw all that out of the window just because a whore with a nice pair of tits walked by, and now, here you are." he gestured to his uniform in a theatrical gesture. He didn't seem to care much as Drake's face went to a bright red tonality, his blood-soaked hands clenched into fists and his eyes widened while a vein on his forehead palpitated.

"Don't you fucking dare talking about her." the sentence was pronounced slowly, each word slipped out with a fake calmness.

He never wanted to punch someone as badly as he wanted to punch Timmy, principally when his threatening voice brought a smirk to his face.

"Well, well. Mark Drake cares for someone! That's quite a surprise, after all, you _never,_cared for anyone, other than you." he grinned triumphantly as Drake's breathing became deeper, all his attempts to control his anger and frustration for his current situation failed completely.

"I care for other people. You can't say I don't just because I never gave a shit about what could happen to you or your brother." his raspy answer just made Timmy's grin grow wider and wider.

"Liar. Never once did you cared for anyone. You must like her. For real. You never moved a straw to protect someone's honor, or to protect anything, really. You like her. Too bad I don't." despise his current angriness, the way he said the last sentence made every hair on Drake's body stand on its edge.

"Leave her outta this, she hasn't done anything to you"

"Funny, those words reminds me of how you two met. I got a black eye, a sore throat and a broken nose." He sighed, raising his hand to his neck and tilting his head.

"Can't say I regret it." _Neither does Vasquez_. He thought.

"Of course, why would you anyway? It's not like it matter much now, does it? And, speaking of the way you two met… you have no idea of the fun we'd have. Just me, Bob and her. I had it all planned on my head." He flicked his index against his temple as analyzed Drake's face in search for any changing on his expression. Indeed, the anger was replaced by a slightly frightened look. "Too bad you came and blew my plans off. She'd have the day of her life. Just, answer me this: she came here with you today, didn't she?"

Drake fell silent, his heart beating wildly against his ribcage, his cheeks and ears paled to a deadly tone. Timmy chuckled, triumph filling his expression and voice.

"Of course she came with you! You two never lost each other out of sight, why would you change that now? Too bad Bob ain't here, he kinda liked her. But don't worry Drake, I can replace my brother just fine." He was now laughing wildly, while Drake was silent. "I'd ask if you wanted to join, but, having In count how long you've been with that bitch I'll have to assume you two already fu…" his sentence was cut off as Drake's forehead collided harshly with his nose.

He fell out of his crouching position, cringing on the floor, looking up a few moments later between his fingers while a flood of blood ran through them.

"Your little friend will be the one who'll pay for that." He growled, before he drew a small switchblade out of his pocket, twirling it around his hand as he let go of his broken nose, crouching again, his eyes flaming with anger as he made the cold edge of the blade met Drake's left temple, breaking the thin skin, drawing a firm line until it reached his hairline.

Drake felt dizzy, the pain in his temple surpassed the one on his wrists and ankles altogether, the blood tingled as it ran down his cheek.

Timmy grinned like a maniac as he drew another line, close to the first one, before grabbing a piece of Drake's hair and pushing his head against the dusty sheets, his recent wounds sting as the tender flesh met the dust.

Timmy leaned in, his grip increased as he whispered by Drake's ear.

"Be a good boy, and I might consider not hurting her. Much." He pulled himself up, putting the switchblade back at his pocket and walking out of the room with large steps.

Drake let himself stay in the same position as he heard two voices outside of the door.

"Don't let anyone enter or leave that room. Got it?" Timmy's voice inquired.

"Yes boss." A deeper voice answered.

The sound of steps echoed through the small room until everything grew silent.


	7. Chapter 7

Silence and solitude had always brought unwanted memories into Vasquez's mind.

This time was no exception.

Pictures and voices flooded her mind, some of them so old, she wondered how the hell she could even remember them. She shook her head softly as she crawled through the ceiling, the gridded panels marking both her hands and knees.

She was angry and frustrated as she clenched her tactical knife between her teeth, grumbling silently under her breath, annoyed with the little control she held over her own mind.

She stopped as two voices reached her, not that far away from the point she was kneeling. Breathing deeply, she approached the source, stopping to undo her boots with slow, silent movements as she sighted two men.

She held the boots for a few seconds, before throwing one in the direction of the pair.

"Crap! Did you hear that?" a slightly frightened voice inquired, as soon as the heavy shoe hit the panels, a few feet from where the two men were standing, sending an echoing sound through the whole hallway.

"Yeah, right over there." Vasquez threw the other boot in the opposite direction, still as a statue as the panels vibrated beneath her feet.

"You go check that way, I'll see over there." One of them commanded.

The sound of footsteps approached, until Vasquez had a clear view of a bulky man, holding a rifle, with an anxious expression.

She waited patiently until he disappeared into another corridor, before pulling up a panel close to her.

The impact of her feet and the floor produced a light 'thump', almost inaudible from more than three feet.

The knife felt too light, compared to the reassuring weight of the Smartgun she'd had to abandon in a cleaning pantry, being too large for her to carry it through the ceiling.

Vasquez was stealthy as she followed the footsteps, until she sighted him, just a few feet from the corner of the corridor she was in.

With three silent steps, Vasquez was just a few inches from his back, with her knife raised above her head, aiming for the back of the man's head.

The impact made his stiff body fell forward, the metallic sound of the rifle as it fell echoed through the hallway loudly.

"Greg, you're okay?" the voice sounded close, as if just a couple feet away. Vasquez span around and gave a quick race, raising the bloodstained knife again, her arm strong as steel as the blade penetrated the other man's torso. In the next moments, copper was the only thing she tasted, as the man spat a cup-full of blood onto her face.

The impact made his limp body fall back, an unceasing flow of blood falling into the other levels as it slipped through the gridded floor.

Vasquez was tempted to leave the hallway and abandon the bodies to be found by some patroller the group of rebels sent, before realizing that it would just warn them that there was still a free marine inside the complex.

She was quick as she dragged the corpses into a close room, not even minding about the pool of blood that was still falling through the floor. It didn't really mattered much, having in count the quantity of rust and dust that covered the whole level. The blood poll would go perfectly unnoticed, principally with such a poor illumination.

She walked silently, focusing on every little sound that reached her ears, ignoring the cold that numbed her feet.

Vasquez raised her head as she developed her plan, turning around to return to the room where she'd abandoned the bodies of the two rebels, feeling her confidence raising as she revised her plan over and over into her head.


End file.
